


Ink on the Skin

by Daughter_of_the_Universe



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe- soulmarks, M/M, More tags to be added, No Smaug, No one ring, non-canon geography, non-canon timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Universe/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Universe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is a simple hobbit, and enjoys all type of absolutely normal hobbity things. He doesn't like adventures, eats all seven meals a day like he's supposed to, and most certainly acts respectably (he is a Baggins after all, no matter those occasional Tookish tendencies). And, like all creatures of Middle Earth, he has a mark, a tattoo of sorts, that will help him find his soul mate. But when he moves to an eastern hobbit settlement with his young nephew Frodo, he finds something extraordinary. Bilbo never expected to find his soul mate, and he certainly did not believe it would be a dwarf by the name of Thorin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To A New Home, With Most Likely No Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is the first chapter for a story that I've been writing, but haven't decided to post until now. Its not the longest chapter in the world, but I hope it will give you a feel of what I'm going for. If you see any mistakes, please tell me, as neither I nor my beta are perfect. Also I am currently taking requests for stories, so if you have anything you want me to give a try, feel free to message me. -DotUni

Ink on the Skin  
Chapter 1  
           Bilbo sighed; he was exhausted. It was times like these that he almost wished that he and his nephew had stayed at Bag End in the Shire. Times like these during this long journey where it was the middle of the night and most everyone else was asleep. Often being the only one awake, he was left with little to do other than stare up at the night sky and wonder what would come next.  
           However, he does not regret his choice to the move to the hobbit settlement outside Erebor. East-Shire was supposed to be very nice and very much like their home back west. He and Frodo needed a chance to start over after the death of Frodo’s parents. But the journey was hard on the both of them. Though, he was told earlier this evening that they would arrive within a few days.  
           “And then it will all be worth it.” He said aloud to himself. Though he freely admits it would have been much harder a trip had they not found a caravan of men heading for Dale.  
           He shuddered at the thought of them travelling alone in the wilderness. Two hobbits such as themselves would be sitting ducks in some of the places they’ve travelled through (no matter how much of a Took his mother was).  
           Another shudder ran through him and he started rubbing absentmindedly at his arm; at the bracer that hid his soul mark.  
           Bilbo began thinking. What if they had died, as they might have if they had been on their own, and he’d never met his Kindred Soul? What if Frodo had never met his either?  
           ‘Not that I’ll meet mine anyway,’ he thought to himself sadly. Most people meet their soul mate within their own race, therefore it was relatively easy to find the person who bore your name.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             However,  Bilbo was not that lucky. He knew that his Kindred Soul was most definitely a dwarf for there were runes instead of the common tongue, the green tongue, or even elven. The runes themselves were of the very bold and blocky type, written in a blue so dark it was almost black.  
           ‘But then again,’ he thought ‘we will be very close to Erebor. Maybe I could find someone to read it for me. Or maybe even- no,’ he stopped himself, ‘there will be no time for soul mates Bilbo. You need to think of Frodo.’  
           He took his hand away from his arm and looked down at Frodo, who was curled up against Bilbo’s side with his thumb in his mouth. Poor lad was only a fauntling when his parents drowned and wasn’t much older now.  
           ‘The move will do him good,’ he mused, ‘a change of scenery and no busybodies *ahem- Lobelia* bothering him, or other hobbits looking at him with pity at every turn. Who am I kidding? This journey will be good for me as well. I may be a Baggins but I could use a fresh start as well.’  
           With that thought Bilbo turned onto his side, gathered Frodo into his arms and slowly drifted off into sleep.

\---------Meanwhile in Erebor--------

          Thorin Oakenshield walked tiredly into his room and flopped down on to his bed. It was a very kingly flop mid you, but a flop nonetheless.  
           It had been a very trying day. Nobody in the council could seem to agree on anything, and Dwalin had to interfere several times when the situation almost devolved into a fight. The elves of the Greenwood were no better. Going on and on about how they wanted more and more gold in exchange for the goods they were exporting to Erebor.  
          ‘Like he was going to give anymore gold than was absolutely necessary to those tree shaggers,’ he thought to himself as he got dressed in his nightclothes. He then laid down on his bed once more and proceeded to stare at the vaulted ceilings. Now too tired to dwell any longer on politics, his thoughts drifted to his soul mark and his One. He knew that his one was not a Dwarf because the writing on his arm was in what he thought was the green tongue. Though his skills were rudimentary at best, seeing as those who spoke the green tongue also spoke the common tongue, he believed that he could understand what it said.  
          He believed that the name was Bilbo Baggins. Definitely not a suitable name for a Dwarf. And while he had little to no problems with any of the other races of Middle Earth (except the Greenwood elves of course) it was odd. Odd for the dwarf king of Erebor not to have a soul mate among the dwarf race. But he truly hoped that he met his One. Hopefully it was someone that would allow him to shower them in gold and gems.  
          Maybe he would meet them on the upcoming diplomatic trip he was going to be taking. They were going to Dale, the elven fortress in the Greenwood, and a place right outside of Erebor. It was a place called East-Shire. He was told that it was settlement of Hobbits. Hobbits were curious and strange creatures from what he’d been told. No interest in fighting at all!  
But, no matter; their food was plentiful and delicious. And while they were polite and friendly, they were extremely suspicious of outsiders. So Balin told Thorin it was important to stay on their good side.  
          Though at the moment he thought little of the emotional sensitivity of Hobbits. He thought more on the possibility of meeting his One among them. He wondered if he would find them in time for the Durin’s Day festivities. It would be a great honor if he could announce such news on that most auspicious of days.  
He looked down at his mark and marveled at its simplistic nature. It was a relaxed, almost flowing script. The lettering was a forest green with brown outlining. He was almost giddy with anticipation for the coming weeks, or rather the possibility of who he could be meeting. And with that line of thought lulling him into peace, he closed his eyes and dreamt of houses built into the sides of grassy hills and a warm person nestled into his arms.


	2. In Which There Are Meetings. Of Several Varieties And Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to anyone that has been waiting for a new chapter, you have absolutely every right to be absolutely pissed at me. I could offer a long list of all the reasons that prevented me from updating, but I won't. Instead I offer you the second chapter of this story. And, on a happier note, I am still taking requests for stories. Feel free to message me with details. Sorry again and please enjoy. -DotUni

*three weeks later*

                Bilbo and Frodo were beginning to settle into life in East-Shire. Before they had left Bag-End Bilbo had sent word ahead and had a new smial prepared for them. It was very similar in style to Bag-End and also the same size. Bilbo had sent their belongings ahead as well. The entire process was made easier by his standing back in the shire (that being his status as the favorite grandchild of Old Took). And the fact that the old Thain of East-Shire had decided that he wished to spend the rest of his twilight years in relaxation with his Kindred and their many grandchildren. Because of this, East-Shire had to pick a new Thain, and, though none of them knew Bilbo, they knew that he had studied under Old Took as a possible successor. So around a week after they arrived, Bilbo found himself presented with the title of Thain of East-Shire.

                He and Frodo had spent the majority of their days making their new home in East-Shire feel as familiar as possible, as he was being given some time before he actually took on the duties of Thain. It really was like their home back in the Shire once everything was set up, though Bilbo could see that there were some Dwarven influences in the architecture, which made sense considering the close proximity they had to the mountain. But afterwards he took on the duties of being in charge of East-Shire, though seeing as it was as peaceful as the Shire from which they had come, Bilbo did get some down time. He did his work from his smial with several advisors unless he needed to visit another family or area to settle some dispute.

                Frodo had also started to make friends with the neighbor’s fauntlings, and today they all had decided to accompany Bilbo to the market to look at the toy makers’ stalls. The parents seemed ecstatic that their children were accompanying the new Thain and his nephew. Bilbo let them wander off with the promise that they would behave themselves.

                Mr. Baggins on the other hand had ensconced himself in a bookseller’s stall. He was looking for books regarding Erebor, seeing as they were now living so close to the kingdom. However, he was rather disappointed with the slim selection regarding dwarves in general, let alone Erebor. Though, when he considered it, it wasn’t that surprising. Dwarrows were regarded as a rather secretive bunch. Just as he was about to give up on his mission, he found something; a thick, leather-bound volume at the bottom of a stack of books. There was no title on the cover but when he opened it he saw it was titled “A History of Erebor, the Kingdom of Durin”. Without another thought Bilbo scooped it up in his arms and paid the vendor. He then went about the rest of his errands, discussing business and the like with the vendors and the farmers who had come to sell their crop at the market, occasionally catching a glimpse of Frodo with his friends.

                They passed most of the next few hours this way, and finally all the fauntlings were sufficiently tired. So he gathered them up and they began the trek back to their respective hobbit holes. The air was warm, it was just near the beginning of autumn. They walked along the main road, the fauntlings still alert enough to engage each other in games. Bilbo sighed contentedly, it was so peaceful here.

                Soon, everyone was back in their homes. It was very easy putting Frodo to bed, seeing as the little lad was so tired that he didn’t even eat supper. Bilbo decided that he would go and have a smoke on the bench outside. He lit his bowl full of Longbottom Leaf and contented himself with blowing smoke rings at the stars. _So beautiful._ It then occurred to him that it would be a perfect time to read his new book. So he retrieved it and read by the light of a lantern next to his bench that he had lit.

                The book absolutely fascinated him. It covered everything from the creation of Erebor after the Longbeards fled from Khazad-Dum to the current king. He sat there for hours, reading the book cover to cover. In fact, he managed to read throughout the entire night. He closed the book after he read the last sentence and was shocked to the see the golden rays of the rising sun in the distance. Strangely enough, he was not tired at all. The hobbit felt as though he had gotten a full night’s rest.

                So he continued to eat there, enjoying the morning sights and sounds, waving to any of his fellow hobbits who started their mornings early. But, in the distance, he could hear a rumbling. He would have worried on it, but his stomach’s desires chose that moment to make themselves known. In response, he picked up his things and made his way inside. He set about making breakfast for himself and Frodo. That is if the lad managed to wake up before elevensies. But soon enough, the soft sound of padding feet reached Bilbo’s ears.

                “Go ahead and sit down,” Bilbo started plating food, “I just finished making breakfast.” Frodo did as he was told, though it was apparent that he was still very tired as his head slumped down to the table. He barely lifted his head when Bilbo set his nephew’s plate in front of him, seeming determined to try and eat while moving as little as possible. But he sat up straight when Bilbo reminded him to use his table manners (he was a Baggins after all). They ate in a companionable silence that it seemed only hobbit families could manage, possibly due to their reverence for food.

                However, Bilbo did notice that faint rumbling from earlier had gotten much louder, sounding as if it were something coming up the main road.

                Frodo noticed it as well and turned his head as if to hear it better. It continued getting louder and louder over the next half hour.

                “Stay here,” Bilbo stood up, though he knew the fauntling would likely be right behind him.

                In the time it took him to reach the door, Bilbo noticed that things in the smial had begun to slightly shake. He opened the door to the smial and stepped out onto the lawn. Looking down the road, he was shocked by what his eyes saw. A caravan, stretching as far down the road as the hobbit could see, made entirely of dwarrow.

                A blur caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. By the time he could process that it was Frodo, the lad was running down the road, straight for the caravan.

                “Frodo! No!” Bilbo chased after the boy, feeling the beginnings of panic clawing at his throat. No matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t seem to gain any distance towards his nephew.

                The younger of the two hobbits was now a scarce few yards away from the group, with said group taking notice that Frodo had no plans to move out their path. A dwarrow near the front of the caravan lifted up what looked to be, at least in Bilbo’s opinion, a horn of sorts. The sound that came out of it was low in tone yet extraordinarily loud in volume. It was obviously being used as a signal, for the movement of the group slowed to a halt just in time.

                Internally, Bilbo let out a sigh of relief, though externally he was still sprinting to catch up to his nephew.

                Said nephew had reached the caravan and proceeded to run amongst their ranks. To say Bilbo was shocked at Frodo’s behavior was an understatement. Bilbo knew the boy had picked up some Tookish tendencies from his cousins, but even most Tooks wouldn’t run headlong into something that could trample them to death. In the few moments in which Bilbo was lost in his thoughts, he took no notice of the fact that one of the dwarves had picked Frodo up and ridden out to the front line.

                When Bilbo finally reached the dwarrow, Frodo appeared to have made friends with the dwarf holding him, or rather with the pony upon which he and the dwarrow sat. Said dwarrow had obviously dealt with children before, as the expression of vaguely amused patience of those who had at least handled a child whom had misbehaved before was prevalent on his face.

                “Thank you so much, Master Dwarf!” the elder of the two hobbits stopped to catch his breath, “I don’t know what got into him!” Bilbo reached up for Frodo, only then realizing that he had never put his bracer on, so his mark was on full display to the stranger. Now this wouldn’t ordinarily be a problem, seeing as most creatures found it inappropriate to stare at another’s mark unless you were mates or family. Or at least that was what Bilbo thought the general consensus was.

But this dwarrow openly gazed at the lettering on his arm, the stare so intense that Bilbo had to hold himself back from squirming. The dwarf handed Frodo off to Bilbo, all the while maintaining that stare.

                “You’re most welcome, Master Hobbit,” the dwarrow’s voice having an almost gravelly sound to it. Bilbo let the deep tones of it wash over his ears. He took a closer look at the dwarrow, the details of his appearance. His hair was long and dark, with the smallest threads of silver beginning to show. His face was very intense and focused, with the eyes seeming to pierce Bilbo’s soul with just how deep their color was (though if you asked him later he would deny it; he was no blushing, lovesick youngster after all). His mouth was turned up into a slight smirk, as if he knew just how entranced Bilbo was with him. But when Bilbo looked back up at the dwarrow’s eyes, he saw that the observing was mutual.

                Once they made eye contact with each other, Bilbo could scant maintain it for naught but a few seconds. He then cast his eyes downward, red coming to color his face and ears.

                “Well Master Hobbit, I believe it’s only proper that we introduce ourselves, seeing as- Frodo was it?- has decided that he and my fellow dwarrow are now the best of friends.” Mirth lit the dwarf’s eyes as he said this, but it was not in a mocking nature. The manner in which he said it was quite happy actually, and they both then took a few moment to watch the fauntling who had taken to waving at every dwarrow he could see.

                “Ah, of course,” Bilbo began, “Where are my manners? My name is Bilbo Baggins, uncle of Frodo Baggins, at your service,” he bowed slightly. The dwarrow’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at Bilbo’s introduction of himself, and if Bilbo had been paying attention to the rest of the dwarrow at the front of the caravan, he would have noticed that the utterance of his name caused several of the ones closest to them to begin whispering amongst themselves.

                “Well met Master Baggins,” the dwarf bowing his head to the hobbit, “my name is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. This is my company.”

                Bilbo visibly started, then lowering himself into a deep bow, making sure to keep a tight hold on Frodo.

                “My apologies, your majesty, for my informality.” Bilbo became very embarrassed, though he tried not to show it. By Yavanna! He had ogled a king like he was a piece of meat for sale at the market. What would his father say?! He was supposed to act like a Thain!

                Frodo had giggled like mad when Bilbo bowed, having been temporarily upside down, and once again drew the attention of many of the dwarrow at the front. But he quieted once he realized how many had of the dwarrow surrounding the person his uncle Bilbo was talking to had taken to staring at him. He proceeded to nuzzle into his uncle’s neck, trying to hide his face. This earned a few amused chuckles from the group. But Bilbo was rather used to it; Frodo often switched between being extremely outgoing and almost painfully shy, though it became more severe after his parents died. Though he was most definitely starting to come out of his shell more and more. But then Bilbo was brought back from his thoughts to the interaction at hand.

                “No apologies are needed, Master Baggins,” the king’s smirk growing broader. Bilbo’s cheeks reddened once more, his face coloring all the way up to his hairline.

                “W-well, Frodo and I must be going,” he took a step back, “It was wonderful, an honor really, to meet you your majesty.” Bilbo bowed again, then turning on his heel to begin the trek back to their smial.

                “Master Baggins, do wait a moment if you please,” the King rode up to Bilbo’s side, “Do you think you could point my party in the direction of the Thain’s home?”

                Bilbo thought for a moment as to whether or not he should let on that he was in fact the Thain and then proceeded to say, “Well your majesty, while I would be happy to invite your company into my home, I am afraid it is a bit smaller than would be necessary to hold all of you.” Another bout of whispering was brought on, and the King’s eyebrows shot up.

                “I am afraid that now I am the one who must apologize, Master Baggins,” Thorin dismounted his pony, and bowed to Bilbo with his arm across chest, “I was unaware that we were in the presence of the ruler of East-Shire. I am at your service Thain Baggins.”

                “That makes me the one who must now tell the other that their apologies are unnecessary. It was a rather recent change your majesty. I have only been Thain for close to a month now,” Bilbo smiled at the King, “and there is no need to make use of my formal title. I am most certainly not holding enough status for a King such as yourself to bow to me and pledge your service.” Thorin raised himself up from his bow with a mildly shocked look upon his face.

                “I assure you Thain Baggins, you deserve and shall be given the same respect as a King. Even if your rule is under a different title.” The dwarrow around Thorin nodded vehemently at this, as if it was unbelievable that Bilbo would expect anything less.

                Bilbo let out a small huff, but decided against arguing the subject.

                “Very well,” Bilbo said, “you may hold me to the same level as you. But I am afraid that I must insist that you do not use my formal title. It is still entirely too unusual to my own ears, no matter what anyone else says.” The King acquiesced, and soon enough they were speaking with a dwarrow the Bilbo was sure was Thorin’s advisor, or at least one of them.

He was introduced to Bilbo as Balin, and his thinking that he was an advisor to Thorin was confirmed. They spoke of how the caravan should split seeing as they could not all congregate in front of Bilbo’s smial. Eventually they came to a consensus.

                “Dwalin,” the dwarrow whose name was called rode forward and Balin shared the plan, “Brother, it seems that we will have to splinter into groups. There is an empty field just near the borders that the Thain says is not being used for anything, why not take the guards and hold battle practice? I can have Ori take the others and buy supplies at the market.” The dwarrow called Ori’s head shot up at the mention of his name. Bilbo noticed that he seemed very shy and had been writing the entire time. Ori’s part of the plan was explained to him once more.

                After that, Dwalin gathered his people, and they began the short journey to the field of which Bilbo had spoken. Ori did the same except they headed towards the market, after Bilbo informed them that there was a stable that would be able to handle the number of ponies that they had.

                Soon enough, there was a much more manageable number left. Bilbo then led them down the main road to his and Frodo’s smial. Two of the dwarrow seemed very excitable and stared at everything they could lay eyes on. They introduced themselves as Fili and Kili and they asked Bilbo questions about East-Shire; Bilbo answered those that he could. Both were surprised when he told them that there were some that he could not as both he and Frodo were from the other side of the Misty Mountains.

                Fili caught Bilbo’s attention, “Master Boggins, no offense meant, but what are you doing so far away from your home? And now a ruler no less?” Bilbo had been expecting the question. It was well known, even by the races that didn’t know much of hobbits, that his people were not over fond of traveling. It was rather rare that they left their own area, so a situation such as their own would be almost unheard of.

                Bilbo sighed, “It is a long story Master Fili. And one that should not be had within earshot of young fauntlings.” Fili nodded at this and Kili as well. The King looked at the Thain and wished to be able to make the sad look in his eyes go away.

                When they arrived at the smial, the dwarrow all dismounted their ponies. Bilbo actually did have a stable; he’d had it built when he found out that he was going to become Thain, for the possibility of situations in which he would have to have dignitaries in his home. Like now. Once the ponies were settled in the stable, Frodo insisted to be put down. As soon as he was he ran into the stable and began playing with the animals. Bilbo just shook his head fondly. It did him well inside to see his nephew be in a joyful mood.

                “Now then, just let me send up the signal for the meeting, and we’ll be ready to go,” Bilbo walked over to a flagpole and began pulling on the rope. A flag holding the symbols of East-Shire was raised high, “It’s a signal to my advisors that they need to come to our smial. They live on the opposite side of the village as Frodo and myself and it saves much time.” The dwarrow nodded, this making a lot of sense to them.

                Bilbo led them into the smial, asking them to deposit their weapons at the door, “It’s just a policy that has always worked for the Thains. Hobbits are a very peaceful people you see, and during meetings we like to be on an even playing field.” He asked them to wait for just a moment while he set up the meeting room and filled some pitchers with water.

                Within fifteen minutes he had everything ready and his advisors, Odo Goodchild and Lily Greenhand, were knocking at his door. They had received the news almost a week ago that the caravan would be arriving, but they had forgotten to tell Bilbo. They felt terrible, and explained this to him, but he told them to think nothing of it.

                “It really isn’t a huge problem. Especially after that fiasco a few days ago with Farmer Grubb and the thefts.” He wave them inside, a little shocked that they had both had the presence of mind to dress in their professional attire, that being a dress and suit respectively both in the colors of East-Shire (grass green, navy blue, and light grey). He excused himself for a moment to change into one of the outfits that had been made for him to wear in the event of very official business. It was much like his every day clothing, but made of much finer cotton and other fabrics.

                The group gathered in the meeting room and they began the negotiations. The King explained that this was the first time that Erebor had attempted trade with East-Shire since before he himself was born. But the crops this year in Dale were not doing well enough for the humans to sell to Erebor without running the risk that they might end up starving come winter. Therefore East-Shire, being known far and wide for their abundance of fertile land and gift for growing food, seemed to be the most logical decision. But aside from that, many in the mountain thought it high time they got to know their neighbors better.

                The negotiations lasted into the night. Though they didn’t argue at all; everyone just wanted a very detailed agreement. Bilbo’s advisors had taken to making small meals during the lulls in progress. After supper, Bilbo had taken a break to put Frodo to bed. Frodo had begged for a bedtime story and with the look on the faunt’s face, Bilbo just couldn’t deny him. So he read his nephew a story and then returned to the meeting room to find everyone laughing in an almost hysteric manner. Well, that is, everyone accept for Bilbo’s advisors and Thorin. It seemed to be a joke that wasn’t shared with everyone considering that the only words the laughing dwarves could get out were in khuzdul. Thusly, his advisors obviously wouldn’t know what had been said considering the only ones who spoke khuzdul were the dwarves and a few select outsiders. But, the expression on the King’s face is what caught his attention. If Bilbo didn’t think Thorin was absolutely not the type, he would have said the King looked embarrassed. Though instead he thought that the slight flush on his face might have been from being in the room, which had become rather warm, for so long.

                They finally finished up near the middle of the night. A few hours ago the King had sent Fili and Kili back to the caravan at the edge of East-Shire where their camp had been set up. They were to inform Dwalin and Ori that the negotiations would soon be finished. From where his smial stood on one of the higher hills, the barest tips of the tallest tents could be seen.

                Odo and Lily began clearing the table as Bilbo, Thorin, and the other dwarrows stood. The conditions of the agreement had been written down so that it could be taken to the council in Erebor and the farmer collectives in East-Shire.

                “Well your majesty, I do believe it was a rather productive meeting.” Bilbo reached out his hand to shake the King’s.

                “I’m quite certain I agree Master Thain.” Thorin shook Bilbo’s hand gently as if afraid of being able to break the small hobbit. Bilbo walked the remaining Dwarrow to the door of his smial, and the King was the last one to exit. Before Bilbo could close the door, the King turned around and reached his hand out for the Thain’s. Bilbo assumed it was for a handshake and so he did not object. But he was shocked when the King lifted his hand to his lips and gave it a soft kiss.

                “Have a nice evening, Master Thain.” And with that, the King turned on his heel and strode down the pathway of the smial, a small smirk gracing his face. Bilbo slowly closed the door, looking after the dwarf king who had kissed his hand. Once the door was fully closed, Bilbo leaned on it and proceeded to slide the floor with a groan.

                Odo and Lily giggled to each other openly and Bilbo glared at them half-heartedly. Then they giggled to each other behind their hands. He saw that there was likely nothing to be done about it. So he got himself to his feet and finished cleaning up from the meeting. Odo and Lily bid him goodnight and made their way back to their homes. He stuck his head in to check on Frodo and was pleasantly surprised to find the fauntling soundly asleep. Some of Frodo’s curls had fallen into his face and moved slightly with each breath he took. Bilbo closed the door quietly, and retired to his room.

                He laid in his bed and looked up at the ceiling. To he was confused by what the King did was an understatement. But, he couldn’t deny that he most certainly felt something the moment the King’s lips touched his hand. Besides he was a little miffed. He had told the king not to call him Thain. But, slowly he drifted off to sleep, completely unaware that his mark had taken on a slight glow.


End file.
